I was only having fun, I didn’t mean to pull the trigger

I’m no more qualified than he, but my ego is much bigger

How was I to know? Was it really up to me to figure?

The mirror is me. Why didn’t he know?  What an amateur.

 

I will decide who stays and goes, who I like and who I despise.

I’ll click my fingers and just like that, I know you’ll come running

I am the leader of this click, so only I will decide who’ll survive.

Remember, the mirror is me.  Oh, such an amateur in guise.

 

If your pieces are what I see to be no more than mere faeces

I’ll hang them out for all to see. I can’t wait to see their faces!

I’ll make sure your face is rubbed all through those faeces

Don’t forget, the mirror is me and no, we can’t trade places.

 

How dare you rant and rave!  Have you forgotten who I am?!

I can see, I’ll need to put you back in line, you ungrateful scum!

I’ll tear you into pieces!  Yes, you are now my sacrificial lamb.

You have forgotten the mirror is me. Yet you play in this forum.

 

Ahh, I see he’s no longer about?  The public berating, it worked again.

Why so much mourning?  I demand you chant my name!  But you abstain?

What, his eulogy read: “His soul was too sensitive?  But no-one’s to blame?”

But the mirror has always been me? I now see, my arrogance was to blame.

  

Copyright © - Steve Goldsmith May 2010

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A local high school asked if they could use this poem in their pilot workshop on cyber and school bullying.  I hope you enjoy it.

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